


Blood and Purpose

by CommonNonsense, Hoodedscarlet



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Demons, Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 23:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18418325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommonNonsense/pseuds/CommonNonsense, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodedscarlet/pseuds/Hoodedscarlet
Summary: McCree is a demon hunter, a wanderer that after the fall of Overwatch decided to follow in his former mentor's footsteps. Drawn to Japan by tall tales, he finds himself at the Shimada estate. Once a grand establishment, the former jewel in the crime empire’s crown now lies abandoned to the elements. A rotting carcass of it’s former glory, and a warning to those who aspire to the reach that the family once had.More worrying to the inhabitants of the surrounding town though, and of more interest to McCree, are stories of a spirit's worrisome interactions with the townsfolk as cherry blossom season approaches. Furthermore, any any attempts to destroy the old estate is met with an unearthly resistance. To get rid of the unnatural presence sounds like a perfect job for McCree - but he quickly finds that there’s a lot more to it than simply an unsettled spirit...





	Blood and Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> God, this work has been in WIP hell for literal years - as in, first Halloween event, 2016, ‘I will totally finish this in a month or two because that new Hanzo skin is really neat’.  
> That… That was not what happened.
> 
> I am absolutely delighted to have participated in a McHanzo Big Bang event, finally! It feels like a big ol’ tick off my metaphorical bucket list, and super satisfying getting this to see the light of day - of course, it wouldn’t have been nearly as good if I hadn’t been paired with [Kerfuffle (CommonNonsense)](http://kerfufflewatch.tumblr.com/). The pieces they’ve created for the fic are incredible and they’ve been nothing but a delight to work with - please go give them some love as well!

It was high noon and the cherry blossoms were in full bloom.

It was a sight to behold with the old gnarled trees shedding petals in the breeze, and McCree wasn't sure whether being a stranger here made him appreciate the sight in front of him less or more. Less perhaps, because he didn't know the history etched into the carvings beneath the moss or the significance of the buildings just visible beyond the gate - or perhaps that was what gave him the unique stance to truly appreciate the estate in front of him.

Vines had long grown over the regal structures, wrapping around the carved insignia of two dragons, slowly claiming back the land that had been theirs all along. It wasn’t hard though to see the majesty that had once been here- wooden beams with red paint still peeling off, white pebbles still not entirely covered by the overgrown foliage. Behind the buildings in front of him more cherry blossoms grew up alongside who knew what else; beyond the foliage he knew the view must be amazing, but time had claimed back the sight from where it had been cut away and exposed to those who had once lived here.

He only had a name and the snatches of rumours to him here in the first place - cryptic words of _when the blossoms bow the guilt struck man walks again_ , rumours of people passing out in the street and claiming they saw a ghost. Not much to go off - but that was the nature of his profession now. After all, spirits don’t really deal in the business of hard evidence.

As his fingers danced down the worn wood of the gate, catching in the divots and whorls of the pillar, he let his eyes be drawn through the trees to the distant shape of the Shimada estate. Barely visible through the surrounding ruins and despite its own structural disrepair it still stood tall, age having not yet brought it crumbling down even though it should’ve. He wanted to venture closer, take a more intimate look - but that would involve going through the gate into the estate itself, and while McCree was a reckless son of a bitch at the best of times going through the gate would mean entering into the spirit’s realm - not something he wanted to do on a whim if the stories were to be believed.

That was, if the stories even proved to be true.  
  
Rumours had lead him astray too many times before for him to charge in like a headless chicken - and though the likelihood of this actually being a spirit was as low as it always was, there was no better way to get a spirit ready to metaphorically punch you in the face than charging headfirst into its territory… Though knowing spirits, it was going to be less of a punch and more something nasty like his energy being drained - only an experience he had needed to go through once to know to avoid as much as he could.

McCree’s stomach rumbled - clearly the smell of the noodle shop behind was getting to him. The sky was starting to change with the approaching dusk, streaks of colours bleeding into the sky. It seemed even the sunsets were turning pink in commemoration of the upcoming festival, and it made McCree's heart ache for the dusty yellow sunsets of the West even as he drank in the beauty of the sight. The light made the ruins seems to glow with a life that hadn’t occupied it in years, danced on the cherry blossom petals as they fell and fell; danced on the petals as they parted around a man standing beneath the trees.

Wait.

McCree’s eyes flick back to where he _swore_ he saw somebody standing. But there was nobody there, petals filling the space that had just been filled and it made his chest thud in a way it had no right to. The logical part of him knew it was probably him just being over zealous, enthusiasm making him see things that weren’t there. It certainly didn’t help that his stomach was rumbling something wicked as well, travel having made him hungry and the heady smell of the noodle shop behind him not helping that in the slightest. But a larger part of him - the part of him that had chosen to take this path, to leave behind the known to chase this “dangerous fantasy” he now called a job - knew better than to discount the shapes seen out the corners of his eyes and the shiver that had settled at the base of his spine.  
  
It seemed as if it was time to do some research.  
  
-x-  
  
“Why did you even want to go in there again?!”  
  
“Look man, it was an honest mistake. How was I supposed to know it was actually going to be haunted as shit?”  
  
“Uh, because _everybody_ knows? There’s a reason people don’t go in there.”  
  
“What, because of all the stupid shit everybody says about the place? Stop being an idiot.”  
  
“Then why haven’t they knocked the place down?”  
  
“Because they don’t pay enough for it. Mum and Dad complain about it all the time.”  
  
“They’ve tried knocking the place down like, three times though, and everytime they bring in the demolition team everything starts going wrong. The machines won’t start, everybody gets sick - one time they had a digger in there and everybody says it roared like a dragon before it _exploded!_ ”  
  
“You’re saying this like I don’t know it.”  
  
“Well you’re _acting_ like you don’t know it.”  
  
The kids’ talk descended into squabbling, the two boys disappearing around a corner and into the streets of Hanamura. In the corner of the arcade where McCree had perched himself, he took another swig of soda (for lack of something stronger) and tipped his hat back down over his face again.  
  
-x-  
  
He passed by the estate again, drawn in by the curiosity that always dogged him, the hunt for new information and the sort of pig headed recklessness that he had payed for many times over. After all, there was a reason his left hand was cold and the joints due for re-oiling each morning, why he sometimes woke up crying out from the pain of a non-existent limb. It was times like this that the trait seemed to pay off though, as his eyes skirted across the ground where the blossom coloured the earth.

Even though the trees were still laden with flowers the ground was painted in their petals, an impossible amount of pink that mottled the surroundings so prettily. But rather than coating the ground evenly it seemed the wind had taken to whipping it up from the undergrowth in whirlwinds, collecting it in haphazard piles in the corners of buildings and slotting between buckling wooden boards. Even individual petals were scattered in unusual ways, plastering to the wall and refusing to move - and sometimes, when McCree blinked, the petals would darken and the piles would thicken and a metallic stench would fill the air and claw at his nose.  
  
Then he’d blink again, and it’d be gone.

-x-  
  
“I saw a ghost, I swear! Please, I wouldn’t lie!”  
  
“Never said I doubted you, darling,” McCree said, soothing a large hand over the woman’s back, “just want you to calm down. You look like you've been rode hard and put up wet.” The woman gave him a strange look - he didn’t doubt the saying sounded significantly weirder in Japanese than English - but seemed to give him the benefit of the doubt as he helped to her feet. She quickly set about trying to smooth her hair and clothes into place.  
  
“So, you gonna tell me how a dame like you ends up passed out in the middle of a street like this?” He asked. The woman seemed to pause before sighing.  
  
“I just… I don’t know. I know I should have called one of my friends to walk home with me but I only live a few streets away. It seemed like a waste of time when I could just walk home myself, you know? But as soon as I left the noodle shop I just felt like I was being… _Watched._ I don’t know how to explain it - it didn’t matter what I did, where I walked, it felt like these eyes were following me wherever I went. And then suddenly I just feel my heart _stop._ ” The woman clutched at her chest, face paling at the memory. “It was like I’d gotten an arrow straight to the chest and I felt so cold - I remember starting to fall but I don’t remember hitting the ground. But I do remember seeing his face as I looked up.”  
  
“You remember his face?” McCree said, brow furrowing. A face to put to the story? He wasn’t going to say no.  
  
“Young, hair pulled back, traditional clothing. In any other situation I’d have called him handsome,” She said. “But his skin was grey and he had teeth like a boar. And his eyes…” she paused, shuddering.  
  
“His eyes?”  
  
“White. Just completely white. They were a monster’s eyes,” she said, voice hushed as if she couldn’t dare to say the words too loud in case the creature itself heard. “My friend told me a similar story of when her sister walked home a few weeks ago but it was nothing like this. She said it was just a man who shot her…”  
  
“The spirit is getting stronger,” McCree said quietly, mulling over the words in his mouth like they stuck to his teeth. Too many factors were falling into place for this to be able to be written off. “Will you be okay to walk home?”  
  
“I’ll be fine now, sir,” she said. “I feel much better than I was. Thank you for not thinking I was crazy.”  
  
“Been called that too many times myself,” McCree admitted truthfully, pulling himself back up to full height. But as he said his goodbyes he couldn’t help but let his gaze be drawn down the alleyway to the wall that lay beyond - and in the distance, the Shimada estate. A stronghold that had, in its time, been defended so well by its assassin inhabitants that from her walls one could be struck dead from two hundred paces away.  
  
Too many factors, indeed.  
  
-x-  
  
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Jesse.”

He wasn't sure whether it was the sound of English after weeks of solely Japanese or the accent only worn slightly by age that gave away the identity of the woman he hadn’t even noticed sit down beside him. For a moment he was almost sure he was imagining things but he could feel that cool stare on him, hard as steel and he knew that it wasn’t a dream.  He tried to contain his surprise as he raised his eyes from beneath his hat - when they settled on the woman in question he knew the act had been no use. She had always been able to see right through him.

“Bit far out for a woman like you, Amari.” Ana just scoffed, pulling her other leg onto her bar stool’s footrest. The way she perched reminded McCree distinctly of a bird of prey - when she looked up from under her headscarf the eye that met his was as sharp as it always had been, although her face had been weathered from age. Her other one was hidden beneath an eyepatch - her sniping eye, McCree noted with concern. Perhaps an infection?

“And since when were you the one worrying about me?”

“Since I know you've got a cute kid sitting ‘round somewhere back home.”

“Please, Pharah’s not much younger than you. She's doing just fine - unlike a certain _monster hunter.”_ She gave him a glare to drive home the point. “Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? Reyes retired into _Blackwatch_ from this work.”

“If anything that just makes me more prepared,” McCree said with a smirk on his lips. “Now, you gonna carry on sitting there tutting at me or you gonna let me get back to my work?” But rather than berate him for his words Ana tilted her head back and laughed.

“I forgot a glass of whiskey counted as work to you.”

“It’s called gathering intelligence,” he replied, gesturing behind him to the half filled bar.  
  
“Or an excuse to sample another bottle you haven’t tried yet. I did forget how much spine you had in you,” Ana added on fondly, before gesturing outside. “You clearing out the Shimada estate?”

“Somebody’s got to.”

“Nobody’s gotten close,” Ana said, smiling. “Anybody who tries runs out like the devil’s on their tail before the night’s up. The lucky ones escape unscathed - the ones that fight are the ones that end up with scars. Funny how they’re always the more cocky of the bunch too.”  
  
“You know a lot about this place - you planning on going in yourself?”  
  
“Me? No. I value my life, unlike a certain man I’m talking,” Ana said teasingly. “But I’ve seen too many men go in there ill-prepared, and I _do_ like you.”  
  
“Don’t think I’d still be on my feet if you didn’t,” McCree added. Ana just smiled, tapping the side of her chin before she began to speak.  
  
“The Shimada clan was once the most deadly Yakuza clans in the entirety of Japan; calculated in their leadership and chillingly effective at their work. They struck at their enemies ruthlessly and with an expert precision - the stories of the clan’s kills have ascended into myth. Murders committed using the most simple of weapons, poisonings untraceable back to their killer until the Shimadas claimed responsibility. The head family were masters of their craft, raised from birth to know weapons as an extension of themselves - and no two men shaped the future of the clan more in their history than the last brothers of their line, Shimada Hanzo and Shimada Genji.” She paused for a moment, drinking the tea she held cupped between her hands and conserving the warmth in her fingers.  
  
“Not much is known about the two; their presence was largely unknown by the world until word circulated about the clan war that ultimately tore the the Shimada empire apart. What _is_ known though is that for some reason the younger Shimada was deemed expendable - and Hanzo was asked to deal the killing blow.” Another sip of tea, the woman lost in contemplation for a moment. “I’ve heard all manner of theories of what happened next, but what we know for sure is that just a few months after those events the clan fell into a squabble for power that eradicated any remaining power left within the Shimada name. It’s said that the spirit that roams here is one of the members of the Shimada clan - and I’d bet you my life it's one of the two brothers.”  
  
“Doesn’t explain the demon get up the spirit has going on though.”  
  
“What, you think I’m going to do all the hard work for you? I’m not that soft,” Ana said, smiling before her expression turned somber. “There’s only so much I can tell you before I'd need a more personal interaction than town rumours, and unfortunately that is something that I do not have the time nor skills for - two things it sounds like you have in at least some excess.”

“Then it sounds like I'm the right man for the job.”  
  
“Two more things then, before you get too confident in yourself,” Ana said, leaning across the table. “Creatures like this, should they exist here and are not just simply a child’s overactive imagination, tend to be bound to an object. Something concrete and related to them that keeps them in this world, yes? And Jesse, if this is a ghost, it’s a powerful one to be able to affect the living in the way it does - it should've taken a human life by now but it hasn't and that's concerning. Do not ask his name. Do not press him for information about his past. Do not remind him that his world does not exist, or he may seek to prove you wrong in… Painful ways.”  
  
“And if he’s not a ghost?”  
  
A smile.  
  
“Then I hope your Deadeye is as accurate as it was when I first met you.”  
  
-x-

The moon was full and round in the sky; an eye that watched ever curious as McCree stared down the gate of the Shimada estate. Beyond the wooden arch the overgrown estate stood in silence, as if holding its breath in the same way McCree could feel himself doing now. There was a liminal feel to the air, like time itself was standing still. The proof of that not being true surrounded him, vines reclaiming buildings and the architecture crumbling, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like time worked _differently_ here.

He stepped through the gate and made his way further in.

The plants were thick and overgrown but easily pushed aside - McCree could see where others had snapped branches and leaves and forced their way through, trailing over to the building to his left or the open air structure in front of him which both bore the marks of vandalism. But the main building rose to his right and he knew that was where he needed to go - wherever the spirit had anchored on the property, it would be around there. A part of him mused on the fact that he had decided so definitely that it was a case of _where_ the spirit was now and not _if_ \- that he was convinced of this spirit’s existence more than any other creature he had sought out before, and he knew the danger in doing that. Assumptions meant expectations and expectations meant letting one’s guard down, not expecting the unexpected. But, he reasoned to himself as he crossed through yet another gate into the foregrounds of the estate itself, he had never felt the presence of a spirit so _strongly_ before this one.

One of the beams that had once supported the doorway into the main castle had crumpled to the ground, taking half the wall with it, and McCree couldn’t help but grit his teeth as he realised the only way to get in further would be to wriggle his way through the hole that had been left intact amidst the rubble - the windows were too high for him to climb and the catwalk stairs suspiciously rickety looking; not to mention there was no guarantee that the floor up that high was going to be stable in any way.

Would he be the first one to delve this far into the ruins since the Shimada clan had ceased to exist? He doubted it, but even so the thought left the thrill of discovery humming in his chest.

The squeeze was tight, almost too tight to make through and for a second he felt his hips catch - had he really trapped himself in the doorway? But he managed to pull himself through with a sharp tug, flopping forward onto the dusty floor and- Shit. The wood groaned above him and he could see debris starting to dislodge and he only just managed to roll out of the way as the doorway crumpled like paper.

_Well, looks like I'll have to get out of here someplace else, then._

McCree spluttered as he got to his feet, trying to shake the grime out of his hair and beat it off his hat. God, the inside of his mouth tasted like he’d licked the ground and let it bake in the sun - pulling out his flask he took a moment to wet his tongue and while the taste of dust and whiskey was nostalgic in its own way, McCree would be happy if he never had to taste it again. The sound of him swallowing seemed too loud in this place though, where the air was stagnant and the structure a stroke away from collapse. It felt like he was treading in the most delicate of card houses and he padded through it aware of every creek of the wood beneath his feet.  
  
He paused in front of the altar for a second, a curious thing that drew his attention as he looked where to explore next. A large banner hung on the wall, large kanji painted onto it and the side of it sliced and bloody. Beneath it, a sheathed katana lay in its stand, a silent offering. McCree had to hop awkwardly to one side as he walked forward to avoid knocking over an old fashioned tea cup, looking down to also see a curiously blacked feather and incense long burnt out in its stand sitting on the mottled ground. An offering, left unfinished perhaps - as he looked over the scene he swore he saw the feather move, knelt down to turn it over in his hand.  
  
But before he could investigate further distraction found his gaze being drawn up - he had to furrow and rub his eyes because was that firelight on the wall _?_ There shouldn’t be any fire here, he was _alone -_ supposedly. But as he got to his feet the sight didn’t fade, red and orange continuing to flicker over the walls, the soft crackle of kindling coaxing him further into the estate. Slowly he moved forward, pulled himself onto the wooden boardwalk behind the banner. It was as if he was being reeled in, curiosity a string hooked into his chest as it lead him through sliding screen doors and into a small garden beyond. In the middle of it a fire pit curled up towards the open sky, the tongues of flame bright and its smoke curiously absent. But most curious of all was the man that sat across from where McCree stood, and he looked to him with terrible, pupiless eyes.  
  
“Come,” he said, with a smile that bared teeth too sharp for the average man. “I hope you enjoy tea.” Somehow McCree knew this was a warning, the final chance to turn and run laid out before him by a man with ashen skin and a deadly bow within arm’s reach.  
  
“It’s not my favorite, but I can damn well try,” McCree said instead, settling down on the ground opposite the man… Demon? Spirit? Even with the creature in question only a stone’s throw away from him he still couldn’t entirely discern what he was - the horns on his head just hidden by his hairline were demonic, but there was a depth of emotion permeating the air around him that was so very human, so typical of a ghost unwillingly tied to the earth.  
  
“You are daring to say you do not enjoy tea?”  
  
“Ah, but I never said that,” McCree said, tipping his hat. “Only that it is not my favourite. Can see how you’d get that impression, but isn’t all true.” He settled back, crossing his legs and getting comfortable.  
  
A beat.  
  
Oh _shit,_ the demon actually expected him to make it for them.  
  
A small box to his left revealed dried leaves and herbs and he swore under his breath. Ana had taught him how to brew tea, once - not that it mattered because he couldn’t remember a single word she said. He could feel the other man’s eyes on him as McCree looked somewhat frantically between the tea and the pot. He didn’t even have a thermometer! How the hell was he supposed to know when the water was done? He didn’t remember much of the lessons, but he _did_ remember getting backhanded by a far too amused Ana when he had used a rolling boil to brew green tea that one time.  
  
“So if tea is not your favorite drink, then what is?” the man replied with a tilt of his head, and McCree could have _sworn_ the man was laughing at him. Not that McCree could blame him - he must be quite the source of entertainment right now, looking frantically between the boiling pot and the box of leaves beside him. Sure, perhaps staring at them this intently was unlikely to help his cause - but maybe if he did he’d actually remember how to brew a cup. Why couldn’t the spirit have wanted coffee instead? Then they might’ve been in business.  
  
“I’m not picky this late at night usually, but something a little harder would be preferable. Takes the edge off, you know?” He went to move, say _fuck it_ and just dump in a handful of tea leave now and be done with it - but when he went to move his fingers he found them curiously stiff. It was as if a fist had locked around his own, but one look at the spirit across from him showed that he hadn’t even moved. In front of him, McCree watched the smokeless fire soften and the boiling water in front of him starting to settle down. Though Hanzo said nothing, he also did nothing to quell McCree’s suspicions.  
  
When the bubbles at the bottom had stopped rising so rapidly, instead clustering together at the bottom McCree found his hand curiously light once more, the invisible fist releasing his own. He dropped the handful into the water and sprinkled a few of the whole leaves on top for show - he could see the colour starting to seep into the water already.  
  
“Ah, but is tea not the gentleman’s drink?” Hanzo asked. He didn’t even acknowledge what had just happened - perhaps the most unnerving of all.  
  
“Past a certain hour I’m none too concerned about being a gentleman - though I’d make an exception for you, darling,” he added with a fox’s smile.It was a dangerous game he played, toying with such a powerful being so lightly; but the smile on the other creature’s face was neither predatory nor forced.  
  
“You have quite the silver tongue on you, stranger.”  
  
“That’s McCree to you, _stranger_ ,” McCree replied in kind, although he was stunned as the spirit offered his hand across the fire, the fire parting around the man’s arm. He hesitated for a moment - just a moment because he was shaking hands with a demon through fire, that shouldn’t even be possible - but as he took Hanzo’s hand he knew the other man had seen the moment of weakness.  
  
“Shimada Hanzo, but Hanzo is acceptable. A pleasure to meet you,” the man said, shaking firm and squeezing and for a moment McCree could feel claws digging into him, Hanzo’s eyes flashing a brilliant white that made his heart stop in his throat - but the moment was gone as soon as it came, McCree reeling back disorientated.

“The tea is nearly done.”  
  
McCree realised that in his smooth talking attempts he had almost forgotten about the tea - the one thing Hanzo had asked him to do during this entire encounter. Probably not a wise idea to forget about that, really. McCree quickly propped himself back up to pull the tea off the stand. Just as Hanzo had said, the tea was pleasantly dark and fragrant; McCree lifted the pot off its stand and poured it into the two awaiting cups. Hanzo took his with a word of thanks - McCree realised with a start that he’d have to drink this tea to not offend the spirit. Shit. That was basically Demon Survival 101 - _don’t eat or drink anything._ _  
__  
_ “You have nothing to be afraid of, if that is why you’re stalling,” Hanzo said, looking up with one eye over his drink. “The only poison to speak of is if you brewed this incorrectly, and even then that will be more bitter than life ending.”  
  
“And I’m sure you’d know all about poisons, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” McCree said, taking his own cup and staring into the depths of it.  
  
“But of course. It is my profession.”  
  
“How could I forget, darling - Yakuza, right?”  
  
“That’s one word for it,” Hanzo said in reply. “I was much more formidable trained than your average hooligan off the street however. _Assassin_ is probably the better word for what I am.” The way that Hanzo’s tongue curled around the word, hissed each syllable made a shiver run down McCree’s spine - this man did not need supernatural aid to make quick work of him if he wanted to. Not that McCree would go down without a fight though - that particular instinct had been beat into him a long time ago.  
  
“So I drink with a professional killer. Seems like I should’ve pressed for the stiffer drink,” McCree said in response, taking a breath before taking the first sip of tea. The taste was herbal, but much deeper than expected. It curled in McCree’s stomach and he found he didn’t hate the taste.  
  
“You don’t look like you’re unseasoned either,” Hanzo replied. “A man that walks armed is either an overconfident fool or knows too much, and your arm is a testament to the latter.” The comment made him flex his hand on instinct, the metal of his fingertips scraping against his palm. It was a sensation he had never quite gotten used to; though the technical brilliance of such a prosthetic wasn’t beyond him it was still a pale substitute for the original, a fact that restless nights and phantom pain had made him all too aware of.  
  
“You wouldn’t be the first to call me a fool, sweetheart.”  
  
“And I wouldn’t be the last, I’m sure. You give off a most... self assured arua. But I do not call names where they are not deserved.”  
  
“You’re too kind,” McCree replied, watched as Hanzo finished his drink and he did in kind.

When he looked up next though it was with a start; the sudden realisation that the sky was colouring purple and grey with the incoming dawn - he knew limerent spaces like this were chronic for warping the passage of time, but it didn’t mean he had to be used to it. Hell, it felt like they hadn’t even been talking for an hour.

“I should be hitting the road, partner.”  
  
“Oh.” A single exclamation, with more emotion behind than McCree could pick out in the moment. “I do expect you will be back though, correct?”  
  
“You’d be right, darling. Don’t miss me too much, yeah?” McCree said, tipping his hat before putting the cup down and standing up. “I’ll be back before you know it.”  
  
“I’ll be looking forward to it, hunter.”  
  
McCree’s blood ran cold, but when he turned around the demon was gone. _  
__  
_ -x-

McCree could list at least three reasons why he shouldn’t have gone back.  
  
For one, the demon knew the reason McCree had come in the first place, a reason he couldn’t hide behind just “simple curiosity” and “chance”. He was called a hunter straight to his face and it was a lot harder to fight a creature that knew it was being hunted. For another, even though the description of “demon” still didn’t sit right with the man that McCree had met, it didn’t change the fact that whatever Hanzo was, he was _extremely_ powerful. The very fact that he could _s_ hake hands with the creature was a testament to the power that it had - Hanzo didn’t even have a physical body yet McCree had felt the scraping of his claws and the too firm grasp of his hand. And on top of all that the power he had felt, sitting across from Hanzo, had been used with such ease - and a creature that used its magic so casually meant that it had no reservations about using greater amounts of power when threatened, and with more skill than the average spirit.  
  
It was going to be a more difficult task than he had expected but McCree couldn’t deny now, walking through the gate once more with a flask of whiskey on one hip and Peacekeeper on the other, that curiosity fed his return above all else. He knew it should have been a sense of obligation for a job finished right, or at least for the town not to be ravaged by a demon hell bent on… something. But he was just simply _curious_ to learn more - why did Hanzo still reside here, even after hundreds of years? And if he was a demon, why hadn't he caused any serious harm to the townsfolk?  
  
(And considering that Hanzo was indeed handsome, well, McCree wasn’t about to start complaining about that either.)

He followed the path in he had taken out the night before, when he had been fleeing with his heart beating fast in his throat, letting his feet now carry him up the side path on wooden boards that still felt like they were going to shatter under his weight. Perhaps it was the spiritual presence or perhaps it was just deceiving looks, but they were still strong and barely even groaned as he ventured up more flights of stairs and further into the building. He could see the shrine as he walked among the rafters, and with the way that the roof had fallen in moonlight streamed down on the small gathering of items. The bowl, the incense and the dirtied brown feather. It was almost picturesque, further proof that this place was cradled somewhere between the physical realm and elsewhere entirely.  
  
The sound of a crackling fire guided him once more, and when he made his way behind the back wall of the main room he was greeted once more by the same sight; the smokeless fire throwing up dancing shadows against the walls and an ashen skinned man beckoning him closer with too-knowing eyes.  
  
“Come,” he said, with a voice that whistled through sharpened teeth, “I hope you enjoy tea.” The words made McCree’s brow furrow - didn’t Hanzo say the exact same thing yesterday? Demons didn’t follow a script in the same way that ghosts did. Perhaps Hanzo was a ghost after all?  
  
“Don’t mind if I do,” McCree replied, tipping his hat before sitting cross legged across from Hanzo. like the previous night, there was a small dark box to his right; instead of opening it up right away though he picked up the wooden container and let his fingers run along the side. The wood was polished to a shine, so smooth under his fingertips that searched for the whorls and divots in the panels and the stain was beautifully dark. Carved into the top of the container was a series of characters and a symbol of two dragons similar to the one on the main gate. _Shimada Hanzo,_ the kanji read; at the very least, it confirmed that he was talking to the same spirit.  
  
“You find the box that interesting?” Hanzo asked.  
  
“Never seen anything like it.” McCree replied. It wasn’t entirely a lie either - he’d seen many trinkets in his day between travel on the open roads, Blackwatch operations and more recently exploring places that hadn’t been touched in years. Jewelry and clothing, knick-knacks and doo-dads, some gaudy and some appealing to more refined tastes. But few he found himself enjoying the aesthetic of, and fewer still that were as well preserved as this.  
  
“It is one of the many gifts from my family. An advantage to being a Shimada heir.”  
  
“It’s incredibly well made. Wouldn’t scoff if I had this in my sitting room.”  
  
“It is a good place to keep tea.”  
  
“Have to agree with you there, partner,” McCree replied. They sat in silence for a minute, the small talk drawing to a close as McCree watched the water and tried to time the dropping of the tea leaves in correctly this time. The dry leaves dug into his hands as it hovered above the water and he watched the water simmer down, more, more, just a _little_ more-  
  
-He let go before he meant to. No - he was _made_ to let go before he meant to, feeling his fingers forced apart and the tea leaves sinking into the water and starting to diffuse. He looked up to Hanzo and though the man’s poker face was legendary, McCree could see he wasn’t even trying to hide his smile.  
  
“Still learning, I see.”  
  
“Pretty rich coming from you, going off the same script as last night. Got anything original knocking around that old skull of yours?” McCree piped back before he thought about the words. Ana’s words echoed in his mind, _do not remind him that his world does not exist,_ and he watched nervously as the words made Hanzo pause, eyes furrowing.  
  
“Did I say the same words yesterday? I… Honestly do not remember.”  
  
“Forget it then,” McCree said, backpedaling.  
  
“No,” Hanzo said, forcefully. He too seemed to backpedal though as he watched McCree jump in fright, guilt in his eyes. “I’d like to know, if you don’t mind.”  
  
“With that same ol’ smirk and everything,” McCree replied. “What, nobody ever pointed it out before?”  
  
“Nobody’s ever come back more than once,” Hanzo replied bluntly, gesturing to the pot. McCree realised, thankfully with less of a startle this time, that the tea was done. He pulled the tea off the fire, the flames immediately falling to a low simmer.  “Usually they don’t need to - usually they don't accept the offer.”

Ah, there it was. McCree had been initially surprised that Hanzo had even been here when he had returned here tonight, but he should have realised it was his fault the creature persisted - a simple mistake, and one he should have been aware of much sooner than this. To invite this spirit to stay on was to invite him to draw more power and become more of a threat to this world at large… Or for him to work to release the man altogether. After all, that was why he was drawn here in the first place, and for Hanzo to merely disappear for another year before returning once more was lazy work at best. Plus, there was just something about Hanzo, despite the horns and despite the claws and despite the unnerving whites of his eyes, that didn't say _danger._

...Maybe Ana was right and he _should_ have stayed in Blackwatch, Christ. He had the survival instincts of a deer in headlights.

“Well you've got me to blame for still being here, sweetheart,” McCree said, pouring the tea into their two mugs, passing Hanzo his own. “Can't say I planned for it, but I ain't complaining.”  
  
“Nor am I,” Hanzo said, blowing softly and indulging in the first sip. “It is rather refreshing actually to see a familiar face. It seems as if I meet a man and then when I come to again years have passed, that man is long dead and I am restless once more.”  
  
“Wait, what _do_ you know about what’s happening here right now?” Hanzo took a moment to mull over the idea, pupiless eyes staring at the ground in front of him. When he started to speak again it was slower, more measured with a weight that felt more concrete than anything else tonight.  
  
“I know that I must defend the castle against all intruders,” Hanzo said. “I know that there is disquiet in my soul, and I know that a demon crawls in my skin. I know that the emotion I feel makes me whole, lets me interact with this world and those within it. It is why I can touch you, if you did not know.”  
  
“Wouldn’t have guessed it,” McCree said, shifting in place. “What feelings usually get you going?”  
  
“Anger,” Hanzo said, and with the words McCree could feel the demeanour of the room shift, just ever so slightly. A shiver ran down his spine, clawing at each vertebrae as McCree watched barely contained fury roll through Hanzo’s body as he spoke. “This all consuming anger that never leaves me, and wishes me to punish those who have done no wrong.” He sighed, mulling over his next words before he could meet McCree’s eyes again. “Theoretically, other emotions could strengthen my physical form too, but I have no proof of that.”  
  
“Never had something to be happy ‘bout round here, then?”  
  
“What reason would I have?” Hanzo replied, his voice bitter with an age beyond his form. “Each time I stir again this castle falls more into ruin and nature claims back more of this place that I used to call home. It’s… Disorientating. Even more so when I look out and see the city in the distance. I’ve tried to go beyond the castle a few times, but every time I do my strength fades.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“If you’re asking why I can’t leave, I can only assume it is because my physical form is bound to this place. I cannot leave my physical anchor to this world. If you’re asking why I want to though,” Hanzo paused, eyes turning out, as if seeing past the foliage to the city beyond. “When you’ve been in the same place for hundreds of years, you wish to travel. And when the world changes around you, even more so. The noodle bar I used to visit as a young man - the one across the road from the gates of this place, you must know the one - had changed hands too many times to count and it is open far later into the night than it ever used to be - and that is only what I can observe from this estate. The city out there glows at night in a way it never used to. I want to see it, walk among the people and know what this world has become. But I am bound here by blood and purpose... Even if that purpose escapes me still.”  
  
“No idea?”  
  
“None in the slightest,” Hanzo said. But even so there was something about the way that the other man held himself, too straight for the early hours of the morning that made the words ring untrue…. Curious. “I have simply come to be content with the fact I will wander the castle until whatever I am bound to is destroyed - probably by this place being razed to the ground.”  
  
“That’s if you’ll let it happen though,” McCree replied. He drunk deep from his cup as Hanzo barked out a laugh that even he himself seem surprised by.  
  
“True,” Hanzo said. “A few people have tried. They didn’t get far.”  
  
“Can’t say I ever want to cross you, partner.”  
  
“Sharing tea with me like this is a rather good way to make sure that is not the case,” Hanzo replied.  
  
“The more tea, the better?”  
  
“Well, if you’re offering, I would be a fool to turn down the company again. Tomorrow again, perhaps?”  
  
“I’d be a fool not to accept.”  
  
_Or perhaps I am a fool to do so anyway._  
  
-x-  
  
“You’ve gotten much better at brewing tea.” Simple words, but ones that made McCree glow with pride.  
  
“Well, you’ve got me practicing every night now, darling. I’d be right worried if it wasn’t improving,” McCree offered, ruffling his hand through his hair. Tonight was warmer than it had been since he had started coming here, a welcome change and a good sign that winter was finally losing its’ grip. When usually he’d be huddling himself into his serape and being thankful for the warmth, today he let it hung loosely around his shoulders. He’d even been able to roll up his sleeves - he’d felt Hanzo’s eyes on him as he did so, but the man didn’t comment. His hat sat to his side, the brim tucked under his knee. “You’d hope I’d’ve listened to you once or twice these past few weeks.”  
  
“Indeed,” Hanzo said, drinking deeply from his cup. “But I have known some very naive men.”  
  
“You _wound_ me,” McCree said, clutching his heart. “Sweetheart, I hang onto every word you say.”  
  
“I didn’t ask you to blatantly lie,” Hanzo replied flatly, rolling his eyes. “Why are you so interested in this anyway?”

McCree was just about to reply with a cheeky quip, one of his usuals - but something about the way Hanzo spoke to him made him pause a bit, look over to him with his words stilled on his lip. That was the curious thing about Hanzo; he was a paradox all in himself. He prided himself in being unreadable, in having a poker face from his training that would make even experienced players sweat. But he still had his tells - the way his fingers would claw around the edges of the cup with blunt nails paused as if to scratch across the ceramic, the way his eyes wouldn’t keep still for long. Just the fact that he was unable to meet McCree’s eyes peaked his curiosity.  
  
“What do you mean, darling?” Hanzo seemed to pause for a moment, before gesturing to McCree’s belt - wait, no, _Peacekeeper._  
  
“That is a weapon that is tailor made to end my life, or at least wound me to the point that it would take me much time to recover. Even now that I think about it I wish to recoil from where you have the weapon holstered - it's very makeup is vile to me and I can sense it from here.”  
  
“If you want me to stop bringing it you just have to say. No sweat off my back.”  
  
“That’s not my question.” Hanzo replied. “Why do you not just attack and end me? Why do you make such a hassle out of this?”  
  
“Because I don’t want to.”  
  
“It can’t be that simple.” Hanzo said incredulously.  
  
“But it is.” McCree replied, wetting his tongue with the tea before putting it down. “Look honey bee, I’m not here because I was sent or because I think spirits are dogs better dead than alive. I’m here because I want to bring old souls like you peace.”  
  
“I’m not that old,” Hanzo scoffed.  
  
“Look at the grey up here and talk to me again,” McCree said, tapping his finger against his temple with a grin. Hanzo just folded his arms and rolled his eyes, but he made no move to shift away. “Nothing good comes out of making enemies out of spirits like you. My old commander, Reyes, was a hard ass, and you’d hear the rumours in the barracks that he’s never been the same after he took his stint as a hunter and ran into a demon that didn’t like him all that much. He was sharper round the edges, raw and cold at the same time like he was missing a part of him that’d make him whole - sometimes he’d drill us and he’d get a glint in his eye that’d make your whole body run cold. You think I want to risk something like that? Losing a part of myself because I was fooled enough to think a bullet can solve all my problems?” He paused for a moment. His metal hand dug into the rough earth. “I need a smoke.”  
  
“McCree…” Hanzo said, and his voice sounded so lost - wispy in a way that just drove home how inhuman he appeared. It was like if McCree wanted to he could lean over and blow the words away and Hanzo along with it. Instead he pulled out a cigar from his pocket, ignoring the bitter taste in his mouth as he bit it and lit the end. “I did not mean to upset you.”  
  
“Well, ya did, darling - no fault of yours of course, you didn’t know,” McCree added, and he watched as the fear physically seeped out of Hanzo’s shoulders. He took a drag and the smoke curled thick and deep into his lungs, soothing the parts of him he could not reach. “I keep up a pretty good life now. Ana’s disappeared to who know where again - don’t know if I could track her down even if I wanted to - but she’s left me the keys to the little apartment she’d been in that’s been doin’ just fine for me. Surprising how many odd jobs can fall into your lap as well once people know you too and they get over the whole Westerner thing. I’m set up fine here, could stay here for a long while but I just… I wonder.”  
  
“About what?”  
  
“My old organisation,” McCree said. “Whole place fell to shit - it’s why I left. Only got worse when I did too - Reyes and the strike commander blown up and no bodies to speak of, the whole damn place dismantled because shit started getting hazy and people start asking questions they don’t want to hear the answer to. Nobody understands sometimes you have to do bad to do good.” He stopped himself there for a moment - he could feel the bitterness rolling off him in waves and he took the natural lull in his words to take a drag of smoke. He tapped the end after, watching embers flutter to the ground and the smoke rise.  
  
“You still feel so strongly about it.”  
  
“Oh, don’t get me wrong sweetheart, if Overwatch called up right now I’d go back no questions asked,” McCree said. “But that’s not going to happen, and it’s hard not to get tied up when you know it could have gone so much better. ”  
  
“I understand,” Hanzo said, looking down into his cup. He seemed to contemplate over the words on his tongue before he next spoke. “I too find myself regularly in contemplation of my past - though I hope you don’t mind me speaking of myself.”  
  
“Not at all, darling,” McCree said, perhaps a bit too fast in his eagerness. “I’m not all that keen to keep reliving those days so if you’re raring to go, take the wheel.” Hanzo just gave a nod in reply.  
  
“I have made choices that have been pivotal in my life. One was… how I got here.” He shifted while he said those words, seemingly not willing to share those details just yet. “But the one I think on most was after that. The deal I made.”

“A deal?”

“In my distress I lost sight of myself,” Hanzo said quietly, eyes downcast. “And in my darkest moment I was approached by a figure - a demon, though I didn't know it at the time. He offered me a choice - die alone and without honour, or he could join his strength with mine and help me hunt down those who brought dishonour to my family. I chose the latter… Though I never knew it would be like this. That it would still be with me, even now, marking my skin and soul.”

“If you're so lackadaisy ‘bout the whole situation then, why don't you just tell the demon to go fuck itself? For lack of better words,” McCree added as Hanzo gave him an incredulous look.

“If I could, I would, but it has been many years since that contract was made. He rests within my spirit, helped me to persist long after I should have  - once upon a time I could tell where he ended and I began, but the years have blurred the lines so much I cannot tell anymore. Truthfully, I do not think there is a difference anymore.” A pause. Hanzo drunk deeply from the tea in front of him before continuing. “My very soul seeks to defend this place from intruders, but those that wander in I know do not deserve to die. They are children or fools, seeking a rush or confirmation of their fears. The only men that deserved to die I saw fall before my eyes many years ago - and they will be the only ones who feel the true bite of my arrows.”  
  
“That’s amazing,” McCree said, genuinely impressed “Usually ghosts don’t know that time has passed-”  
  
“I am not a _ghost,_ ” Hanzo bit back with a sudden viciousness that made McCree recoil - but when he looked into the man’s gaze there was no true anger there. His eyes were wide and his teeth were bared but the only emotion behind it all was fear. It was so deep set that it made McCree’s heart ache - did he even know it was there?  
  
“Well then, people like you aren’t usually knowing of the world spinning on around them,” McCree continued, mouth running with a mix of fascination and nervousness. “You think that's the demon keeping track?”  
  
“No more than you keep track of how often you breathe.” Hanzo said, lips thin. “I am not a _thing_ for you to observe.”  
  
“I’m sorry sweetheart, I was just-”  
  
“I believe it is time for you to leave, McCree.” McCree wanted to retort, but the look of sheer anger on Hanzo’s face made him bite his tongue as guilt settled heavy and sick in his stomach. He hadn’t even seen that line until he had stepped over it.  
  
“Whatever you say,” McCree replied, perching his hat on his head as he stood. “Will I be seeing you tomorrow night?”  
  
For the first time since they had met Hanzo did not reply immediately - and when McCree looked to him there was a sort of confusion to his expression that took McCree off guard. He looked _raw_ , emotions struggling to hide beneath the mask of impassiveness that usually graced Hanzo’s features. It looked like he wanted the whole damn world to crumble down around him - and for McCree to be as far away from him as possible.  
  
“If you wish to come, I will be here,” Hanzo said slowly after a few more moments had passed. “But leave. Now.”  
  
“I’ll see you later then, partner.”  
  
It made his heart sink low when he never heard Hanzo return his farewell.  
  
-x-

The apartment that Ana had left behind, while well looked after, wasn’t exactly big. On a good day it was cosy, fit him and his sparse possessions surprisingly well despite the fact that he was a good foot taller than the Japanese people that would have occupied this space before him. But now it felt cramped, like the walls were pressing in on him as he paced the floor in front of him like a tiger in a cage. He felt like one too, caught against his own skin.  
  
For the first time in weeks, he felt his trigger hand itch; on the move it was easy to make a line of tin cans and shoot them off one by one, relieve stress and boredom in one neat package, but in this clustered urban landscape that just wasn’t possible. Even one shot would send the cops running - and for good reason - but it left him with a bad case of idle hands.  
  
Would Hanzo really be there again tonight? He hadn’t slept since he came back - oh, he’d tried, but every time he closed his eyes he’d see Hanzo’s face, caught in that expression of anger and agony that made his heart _ache._ Once, he wondered if Hanzo knew what was happening to him, that he was toeing the line between life and death. Now he wondered why Hanzo was still here, why he did this to himself. Sure, he seemed happy when they talked, but every smile looked as if Hanzo was learning how to again, every laugh startling him because he never seemed to expect it. He wondered if Hanzo noticed these things as acutely as he did.  
  
McCree shook his head, combing a hand through his hair as he trotted out of his room and down towards the apartment mailboxes. Clearly spending so much time around Hanzo was starting to get to him - sure, he had passing acquaintances with his neighbours, the corner store owner, the lady on the corner with the German Shepard she walked every other day. But Hanzo was really his only _friend_ around here and even that was a strange thing for him to call another man.  
  
-No, Hanzo  was not a man _._ Hanzo was a ghost. A spirit. A _demon,_ in at least one definition of the word. Though his monstrous appearance had receded, clawed hands for blunted fingers, horns disappearing, Hanzo was still something completely other to him. He had to remember that, needed to remember that. He couldn’t afford to get close, he had to remember that… And yet saying that felt like tempting him with the forbidden fruit, like he was trying to spit out the second bite when he had already swallowed the first.  
  
It seemed like it was the regular collection of bills waiting for him until he felt the card in the middle of the stack. Pulling it out, he was met with a cheerful picture of a fairytale like castle, _Greetings from Neuschwanstein Castle!_ printed on top in a dime a dozen font. Who on earth did he know in _Germany?_ Mercy could have potentially sent it, but last time he heard she was in Egypt helping with crisis efforts over there. Reinhardt? They had never crossed paths though. Once he read the text though, scrawled out in English,  it was easy to tell who the postcard was from.  
  
_Jesse,_ _  
__  
__Since I haven’t seen this apartment come back onto the market I can only assume that you still remain in Hanamura - and to that I’m not sure whether to commend you on your efforts or your stubbornness. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but spirits aren’t always who they show themselves to be. Trust your instincts. It’s kept you alive this long._

 _Look after yourself,_ _  
__Ana._ _  
__  
_ No return address. Of course - the woman was practically a ghost herself these days. Talking to her at the bar all those weeks ago felt like a strange fever dream he couldn’t entirely prove he had. It was nice to know that somebody was looking out for him though, even if they were for some reason in Germany of all places now.

...Which begged the question, now that she brought it up - what did he think of Hanzo right now? _  
__  
_ He let himself flop back onto his bed, idly looking over his small side table that had his meager belongings. Keys, wallet, the dormant Overwatch communicator he couldn’t bring himself to throw away, his flash, a small alarm clock that he couldn’t remember how to set. He let his mind wander.  
  
He knew that Hanzo was dangerous, but knew he meant no harm. A demon flirted under the spirit’s skin, a part of him but not defining him. Not in the same ways that his smile did, his smooth voice filled with poise, the way they could talk about everything and nothing at all together and at the end of the night he could still walk away lighter, happier… He groaned, shoving a pillow against his face. _God,_ he was in too deep here - his stomach fluttered in a way he didn’t want to think about, yet couldn’t stop thinking about. It was worse too when he closed his eyes, blocked out outside stimulus and let his mind run with those times where Hanzo had brushed his arm, laughed a little lower, let his guard down and relaxed…  
  
He had to set things right.  
  
-x-  
  
“I hope you enjoy tea.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
A pause, one that felt too long. Hanzo seemed to snap out of a trance and search his face, and as his eyes seemed to bore into him McCree could feel his heart jump into his throat. One second, two seconds, three, four, five - he breathed and Hanzo remained silent.  
  
“I’ma get going, partner-”  
  
“No.”  
  
“No?” Hanzo just tapped the ground.  
  
“We have much to talk about. Even then, I would miss you far too much if you decided to leave.”  
  
If the words Hanzo said didn’t brighten McCree’s disposition, the small smile on Hanzo’s face would have.  
  
-x-  
  
McCree had come this way for months now, so it was a rather unpleasant surprise when the wood under his feet gave out.  
  
He wasn’t even thinking about it as he climbed the first flight of stairs into the Shimada castle proper, but suddenly there was a sharp _crack_ as his stomach leapt to his throat and the board beneath his feet gave out. Blackness rushed up to meet him and his hands flailed out for purchase on the surrounding structure. His flesh hand raked uselessly against the side of the stairwell but thank god his other hand was able to grip on tightly to the the next stair up, bringing his body to a jerking halt. Heart thudding in his chest, he took a moment to take in the situation - until he heard the wood beneath his hand starting to creak.  
  
“Take my hand.”  
  
Despite the fact he knew the voice, knew this place, it was still a surprise to look up and see Hanzo standing there offering his hand. It wasn’t something that he took time to think about though, instead just throwing his right hand into the spirit’s grasp and letting himself be hauled upwards and back onto the step. Just in time too, by the looks of it - as McCree turned to look behind him he could see how much the next step had bowed under his weight.  
  
“Well, fuck me. That could have gone a bit better.” He tipped his hat towards Hanzo. “Thank you, partner.”  
  
“Not a problem,” Hanzo replied with a short nod. “This place is mine to defend and you have earned my respect. It is the least I can do to make sure you pass through unharmed… Especially when something as unusual as that happens.”  
  
“That’s unusual?”  
  
“While the plants have grown up, the castle has stood tall for hundreds of years. Never have I seen the wood simply shatter like that, even beneath human feet,” He murmured, looking down and shaking his head. As McCree looked closer, he could see the faintest shadow of pupils and irises in his eyes; it took him off guard, considering just how long he’d become used to seeing Hanzo without either.  
  
Simultaneously however, a different issue rose; they seemed to realise at the same time that their hands were still firmly grasped together. McCree pulled away quickly, embarrassment flaring bright onto his cheeks - until he saw that Hanzo looked a bit flustered himself.  
  
“Shall we head back inside and have a drink?” Hanzo asked, butting in before McCree could inquire on his reaction. McCree’s mouth snapped shut as he huffed - maybe later. He knew why he was embarrassed of course, but Hanzo was a whole other story and he wasn’t against getting himself in too deep if it was worth it. How else had he ended up here after all?  
  
“Sure, darlin’.”

-x-

  
“Do you mind if I ask a question, McCree?”  
  
“Sure, sweet pea,” a lazy grin gone curious, McCree peering at the other man from under his hat “beats fighting off sleep to pass the time. What’s got you so curious there?” Hanzo didn’t reply immediately -McCree could practically see the way Hanzo rolled the words around on his tongue, as if not entirely sure if he wanted to speak.When he does though it’s with a carefulness that doesn’t often plague their conversations now, Hanzo meeting McCree's eyes with a measured, yet intrigued expression.

  
“How exactly did you end up in your profession? It seems a strange occupational change, going from a secret agent to bounty hunter.”

Ah. Suddenly McCree feels the need for a smoke like an ache in his side; dull, thudding and radiating out in a way near impossible to ignore. He didn’t deny the feeling either - why would he? - quickly reaching for his lighter and case. It seemed that Hanzo had caught onto the sudden mood shift too, if the way his face fell was any indication.

“If you don’t wish to talk about it, then that's-”  
  
“Hey, hey sweet pea - did I say anything of the sort?” McCree said, pausing for an answer. When he didn’t get one in reply he offered a crooked smile instead, catching his cigar in his teeth and lighting the end. “You’re fine - honest. I’m happy to talk about it, even. Just be aware it ain’t the happiest of tales - leaves a man like me feelin’ real melancholy, you know” Hanzo looked like he wanted to protest, but the words never seemed to bubbled forward - instead he shifted forward where he sat, looking to McCree with inquisitive, milky eyes. Taking that as a sign to continue, McCree did just that.  
  
“Wasn’t always part of Blackwatch - hell, ain’t always been on the right side of justice. Long time back I ran in a gang down south; me, a girl, couple of other rough sorts on board. Turned that desert and everybody runnin’ round in it into more or less a unified front - ain’t sure that was a good idea in hindsight considering the trouble they’ve gotten into since, but can’t say I ain’t a bit proud.” A pause before McCree rose his head slightly, moonlight cutting a pale line across the lower half of  his face. “You ever had the pleasure of seein’ the southern US for yourself?”  
  
“I’ve heard a little about it.” Hanzo said, shifting in place. “Not as much as I’d like to though.”  
  
“Well then sugar, let me paint a picture for you.” He let himself lie back further, adjusting the serape that fell across his shoulders as his voice took on a wistful, distant tone. “Flat land as far as the eye can see, hot days. Colder nights. Sand getting in your boots, you hair, your clothes” a short laugh “bet you I could still find some caught in my things if I looked hard enough. It’s worth it though - the sunsets are redder than you’d ever believe and you’ll never see that many stars again.”  
  
“You sound like you miss it.”  
  
“It was where I was born and raised, sweetness - think you’d understand better than anybody how sentimental a man can get ‘bout this sort of thing.” Hanzo just made a noise of agreement a with a small smile - _touché -_ prompting McCree to go on.

“Course, there was strange things that cropped up, things that didn’t feel right. Blew ‘em off at the time though… Shouldn’t of, though. Always known my gut’s good at sensin’ when things ain't right… And that was the last time I didn’t listen to it.”  
  
“What made it so bad?” Hanzo asked, curious, eyes following McCree where he sat. Hanzo’s full attention was on him; once upon a time that would’ve been unnerving. Now McCree didn’t even flinch - hell, _preened_ under the attention. He would say it was because Hanzo was like every other man he knew but that’d be a lie. No, Hanzo was something more. Something _good_. It made McCree wonder sometimes how things would be if Hanzo was born in this time and not in his.  
  
...Foolish thoughts.  
  
“There’s a difference between seeing the signs and choosing to believe them.” McCree said, tapping the end of his cigar and letting the ash flutter to the ground. “The monthly disappearances. The raw meat. All the stink of wet dog.” He counted off each phrase on his hand with a smile at his own naivety. “The gloves when we were dealing with silverware and other precious goods. Turned down any omnic we saw because they couldn’t ever ‘run with us’ I thought it was all just superstition or something - not that I was lookin’ down the mouth of the beasts.” A brief laugh at that, McCree shaking his head. “Y’know Han, I called Ashe a bitch a fair bit. Ribbed her because - well, y’know, she was family. That’s what you _did…_ Didn’t mean for that to be taken so damn literal, though.”  
  
“Werewolves.” Hanzo breathed, eyes widening.  
  
“Tryin’ to find new blood for their pack, no less. I was just a fuckin’ kid - no wonder they didn’t care about me stealing liquor from the cabinets and causing trouble. They were all ready to turn me into a monster - what’s a bit of whiskey when that’s your moral ceiling?” He raked a hand down his face, shaking his head. “Getting caught out by Blackwatch was probably the best thing that could’ve happened to me. Didn’t know it at the time - not sure if Reyes did either. Spitting on the guy and calling him every god-awful name I could think of probably didn’t help.” He laughed at that, though the sound was stilted. “He made me face the fact that I was a kid among wolves - plus, from there it was either go with him or rot in jail. It wasn’t hard to choose.”  
  
“You escaped from that all surprisingly unharmed, then.” Hanzo said. “I have known of others who ran into werewolves, and their story wasn’t as happy as yours.”  
  
“Wish it ended there, darling.” McCree said. “As part of Blackwatch I ended up going back, trying to bust up the drug ring they had their fingers in. I was unlucky enough to be recognised. Unluckier I was captured.” He wiggled his metal arm, the firelight glinting on the joints. “Ang’ fixed me up good, but it’s a miracle I got out before they could do any more than this to me. Can’t remember whether they were going to chomp up the shoulder next or start on my legs - shock is one hell of a drug. Honestly still impressed I didn’t catch the pooch after all that - really would’ve been the icing on the dog shit cake.”  
  
“That sounds a lot closer to my experiences,” Hanzo said, wincing. “Hopefully recovery wasn’t too bad.”  
  
“Not bad at all - got some good doctors and the meds had me feelin’ _real_ good for the first lil’ while. Sure, the phantom pain gets to me some nights, but ain’t anything that a bit of booze can’t solve, right?”  
  
“Do you solve _all_ your problems with alcohol?”  
  
“Not all of them,” McCree replied, before grinning wide at Hanzo. “I’ve found recently some of them prefer tea. Though I ain’t exactly sure on calling them a _problem,_ per say. More of a… Happy accident.” Hanzo scoffed at that, but the effect was clear; a flush on his cheeks, a smile that the other man was trying and failing to hide.  
  
Even if the topic of the hour hadn’t exactly been cheerful, they could make something out of this evening yet.

-x-

It _should_ have just been a normal night. Well, as normal as any night between the two of them got. Even putting aside their friendship and feelings and the conversation that flowed so _easily_ between them, McCree was still a monster hunter. By all regular definitions of that word, he should be banishing Hanzo before the other man could say another word. And Hanzo _?_ Well, he was still some sort of (by all other accounts, _abborent_ ) amalgamation of ghost and demon. He shouldn’t be sitting here so peacefully. And yet… They are.  
  
McCree doesn’t even entirely remember what they’re talking about; one moment he’s jabbering on about some hunt he was on maybe six months prior. A good story too - or so he’d claim - with vampires and intrigue and mystery and the butler, indeed, actually being guilty for something in some cluedo-esque twist of fate. The next moment however he could feel his jaw lock together, Hanzo’s expression turning cold.  
  
“Wait.”  
  
_Not like I can do anything else right now, sugarbun,_ would be what McCree would like to say right now - but since he couldn’t actually _speak_ , mouth held shut in the same way Hanzo had directed him only a handful of times before, he opted for not even attempting to speak. He did, however, go for his gun - Peacekeeper was un-holstered and in hand within moments, McCree eyeing up their surrounding with a careful, inquisitive eye.  
  
“Did you hear that?” They waited a moment longer, silence paper thin - stretched tight and only moments from ripping. Then the sound again - a scraping of something against wood, the fluttering of feathers. Quiet - but not quiet enough.  
  
“Yes.” McCree said in a murmur, the unnatural clench around his jaw finally gone. The point was made though, McCree refusing to raise his voice above a mumble - something Hanzo seemed satisfied with. “Could it be-”  
  
“Not human.” Hanzo said, already on his feet with bow in hand. “We would have heard them before now. They’re _yōkai -_ of what sort I do not know yet,. Likely vermin scoping out the area; this place is a lure for evil beings.” He spoke of the fact bitterly, spitting the words like a foul taste on his tongue. “We need to remove them now, before they can make this any worse.”  
  
“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” McCree said, standing up and following Hanzo as he left the garden. Before McCree could return inside the building entirely through a chill ran through his body, making him shudder as Hanzo disappeared momentarily from view. The sensation dripped down his spine like ice water, making him clench his jaw as his eyes flickered around the area.  
  
Was he being watched? He couldn’t see anything - but McCree had been in the business long enough to know that if he only relied on sight he’d be long dead. No, the twisting in his gut said otherwise, to be wary of the long shadows that shrouded the once lively campsite, to be careful of the not-quite noise he could almost hear, the tension that hung in the air like the silence before a symphony. Silent. Waiting.

“ _McCree!_ ” A whisper, quiet, but urgent. Snapping out of his stupor, McCree cast one final glance at the darkness. He didn’t trust it - that was a good thing. That was how he was still alive after following this path for all these years.  
  
“Coming.” McCree said following the sound of Hanzo’s tip-tapping footsteps to the right, up the stairs to the highest landing. When he emerged it was to a stoic Hanzo, perched on the edge of the wood like a bird of prey. There was a regality to his features that McCree could appreciate like this - narrowed eyes, the gaze pinned on something McCree couldn’t quite see from this angle. His bow was poised in one hand - while it wasn’t primed to shoot, it was ready to go given the opportunity - or faced with the choice.

The moment of observation was finished by Hanzo tilting his head slightly, unblinking and milky gaze meeting McCree's own. McCree moved over - of course he did, it would be foolish to ignore the instruction with a threat on these lands. However, it didn’t take long for him to realise that no, they truly weren’t alone. Poised somewhat less gracefully next to Hanzo, he watched as the other man silently gestured to figures moving around the ground floor of the establishment, over the worn mats of the dojo. Children? No, they weren’t loud enough. The way they moved was too erratic as well, like hares in an open field. Animalistic, almost birdlike… A fact that was only confirmed when one of them turned and McCree could see the beak protruding from beneath his hood.

“Tengu,” Hanzo muttered, his frustration evident in the words that dripped from his tongue “they should have been kept out by my presence.”  
  
“But they're here, sweetness - what do you want to do?” McCree watched as one of them climbed up on what looked like the frame of an old lantern, making a clicking sound to its’ companion.

“We observe- and we take them out as silently as we can.” Hanzo said, raising an arrow at the one perched like a fat duck on it’s perch. However it was McCree this time that reached over, pulling Hanzo’s hand down with a measured stare.

“We gotta work together on this, sugarplum,” McCree said, still not taking his eyes off the demons ducking in and out of the architecture, chittering to each other in gleeful delight. He could tell they had discounted Hanzo’s presence from lingering in this place, for whatever reason. With Hanzo’s current expression? It would likely be the last mistake they made. “You stay up here, I round the side and heard them in the middle? I can sit up here takin’ pot shots, but I’m a damn sight better up close.”

“You sure?-“

“It’s my job,” McCree replies, curtly. “Would be a damn worry if I was.” A smile, to break the tension - it seems to work, if the smile pulling on Hanzo’s lips indicates anything in particular. McCree has gotten good at making the seemingly stoic man crack his mask, remove the coldness of the demon to expose the human underneath; McCree is far more proud of that than he has any right to be.

“When you heat the commotion start, start shooting,” Hanzo said, grinning dangerously. The expression made McCree's heart kick into double time - he couldn’t stop his grin back if he tried.

“Roger that, gorgeous.”

Before Hanzo could comment on _that_ particular nickname, McCree hopped back from the edge, pressing against the wall as he starts edging round the edge of the first story of the room. Around and around, down the stairs he willed not to creek under his soft foot falls. Whether it was luck or otherwise the wood refused to give away his position; looking around the corner he could see the demons frolicking, oblivious to their impending doom. He met Hanzo’s eyes. They were ready.

Three.

Two.

One.

The first demon fell as something _latched_ heavy onto McCree’ _s_ back, and the room descended into pandemonium.

Motherfucker- he _knew_ he should have paid more attention to that feeling back in the courtyard, but it had hidden itself so carefully McCree's guard had been misplaced. With a yell he slammed his back against the wall, head jerking as a large beak snapped beside his ear. Snapping again, and _again-_ He yelled as it got a mouthful of hair from under his hat and pulled, pain jolting through his head. With a final scrape and shove he sent it toppling to the floor - when it looked up its eyes were bright and _seething._

 _“_ Get out here!” He heard Hanzo yell and McCree did so without thinking, diving into the open area of the room with the tengu screaming bloody murder behind him. He spun around, Peacekeeper in hand- only to hear a whistle by his ear and a screech as an arrow plunged into feathers. The body hit the ground with a _thunk,_ softened by the worn matting below them. No second arrow was needed; the creature lay soundles and still.  
  
Though McCree was more than impressed, there was no time for congratulatory words; where one had fallen, two had taken their place. McCree wasted no time in buring a bullet into each. He could see the shock at a few of the other tengu at that _working_ \- bullets were usually a foolish attempt, considering they didn’t usually connect with spiritual beings. They needed to be blessed, or silver, or enchanted - McCree's were. The tengu never stood a chance. There was an innate satisfaction at seeing a few at the corners of the room scattering like the vermin Hanzo had so described them as.  
  
Claws at his side made him cry out, him twist around, another beak snapping and pulling at fabric. He didn’t even think, free hand burying itself in the feathers of the demon. He’d been doing this too long to hesitate, to think about artistry - _bang!_ And the demon fell lifeless to the ground, black ichor seeping out of the single bullet wound. A clean shot - Hanzo wasn’t the only one that didn’t need a second try to fell the beast.

Hanzo.

McCree eyes instantly searched out the other man - a good thing, too; while he was holding his own against the creatures that had come after him McCree could see there were more still scaling up towards him. Up the pillars holding up the boardwalk where Hanzo stood, mean claws digging into worn wood, coming towards him at an angle he’d never see if McCree didn’t-  
  
“Cover your eyes, sweet pea!”

The flashbang hit it’s mark, McCree averting his eyes just so. The smell of burning magnesium was ingrained into him at this point - less so the screech of several suddenly blinded monsters, the sound of claws frantically scrambling, the sound of disorientated feet suddenly hitting the ground. _Bang! Bang! Bang!_ McCree started picking them off- and arrows were too. Arrows met the ones that McCree didn’t; a trade off of shots that weaved together in a strange sort of harmony. That? That certainly didn’t come from McCree - he didn’t fight with poise or grace, anything beyond a need to _win._ Hanzo though? He did - and it was infectious.

The last one fell, and silence fell across the hall - wait. A shot, fired backwards; the cry of a final, hidden tengu. (He wasn’t falling for _that_ one again). The silence that followed a battle was always a strange thing; taunt with the ebbing rush of adrenaline, just ever so slightly on edge with expectation. Was that it? Was there more? Was that all? Similarly he could see Hanzo hovering too, chest heaving, his bow heavy by his side. Wary… But at easy.  
  
“Pretty handy with that bow.”  
  
A moment, where Hanzo’s eyes met his, a confused look. It quickly split though, a raised brow, and a smile.  
  
“I could say the same of you.” The reply made a smile split across McCree’s face in return, a grin that was wide and delighted and just a little feral with the residual rush from the fight.  
  
“Not what I was expectin’ to do with you tonight, but I’ll take it,” he said, shrugging. Peacekeeper wasn’t holstered yet - probably wouldn’t be for a while, his gut still writhing from how off-guard he'd been to be surprised by such an attack- but his pose was laxing, his words easing; conversation was a topic he could entertain now. He watched with amusement as Hanzo hopped down, dusting himself off. “This happen often?”  
  
“Not for a long time,” Hanzo said, nudging a body with his foot. Already the bodies of the tengu were fluttering off into smoke, wisps that curled and dispersed in the air in moments. Certainly not solid enough for McCree to interact with anymore, but for a man that straddled the line between reality and the other side? It was a much easier task. “I’ve never seen them in those sort of numbers, either - it’s strange. Usually my presence is enough to frighten them off… Perhaps they’ve simply become more bold.”

“Because you’re gettin’ distracted by handsome strangers?” McCree teased.  
  
“Perhaps,” Hanzo said without skipping a beat - and was that a coy glance flashed his way? If it was, it was a blink and you miss it moment; by the time McCree went to search for it again, it was gone. Instead it was replaced with a sort of… confusion, one that only seemed to intensify on Hanzo’s face as he looked at the rapidly evaporating carnage. “Tengu are creatures of vanity who seek to cause trouble - I don’t know if you know this” he adds, looking to McCree with an inquisitive expression. When he nodded once, Hanzo continued. “I’m not sure why they seek to cause trouble here - certainly I can understand them roosting here and drawing in passersby to harass, but they don’t do that on possessed land…” A grunt, one that sounded wholly unsatisfied.

  
“Come on, Han,” McCree said, resting a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go back upstairs and finish our drinks, yeah? Ain’t nobody figured out their problems scowlin’ at the ground - and i assure ya, if I knew the answer myself I’d tell ya in a heartbeat.”  
  
“And you can see to your injuries,” Hanzo replied, gesturing to his side. What was he talking abo-

Oh.

McCree grimaced at the bloody scratch marks, still weeping blood. While the wound had already started to coagulate around the edges, it was a slow process; a demon’s corruptive thinned the blood and exponentially raised the risk of infection. The sooner he could clean it? The better.

“A wonder what ya forget when the devil’s breathing down your neck,” McCree said, before jerking his head. “Now, let’s get back over to the fire. I much prefer just your company over all… This.”  
  
“That sounds wonderful,” Hanzo replied. “Lead the way.”

-x-  
  
“What do you do with yourself during the day, McCree?”  
  
The question took him off guard amidst their usual conversation, McCree looking over to the other man with a curious expression. Hanzo wasn’t exactly a _predictable_ person, despite his more ghostly nature pulling his opening lines into well worn paths. The few times he’d come across people who had veered in here against better judgement too he’d heard Hanzo use the same lines on them as well - _I hope you enjoy tea_ carried a distinct connotation for McCree now, one that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to shake.  
  
“What’s got you curious all of a sudden, sweetheart?” McCree said, brow quirking. “That’s a question comin’ outta left field a bit, you know.”  
  
“Am I not allowed to be curious where you disappear to the remaining eighteen hours of the day?” Hanzo replied back, and oh, was the other man _teasing_ him now? “I can certainly instruct you through the process of making tea _again_ if you’d prefer to-”  
  
“Darling, darling _please,”_ McCree said, holding up his hands and laughing. The sound was rich and belly deep, peeling from him loud and easy. Infectious too, if the way that Hanzo’s expression broke was anything to go by. “Stem the sass, okay? If _you’re_ allowed to be curious, _I’m_ allowed to be asking why.”  
  
“But isn’t this my domain? And my estate? And my tea that you’re so graciously enjoying?” Hanzo replied, gesturing with his hand. “Truly, if we’re counting favours given and received, you are very much in my debt, McCree.”  
  
“Are you threatening me?” McCree said, couldn’t even try to say the words with a straight face. God, why didn’t this feel like a threat? It should be - by all accounts McCree should be drawing Peacekeeper, holding it to Hanzo’s head, asking what he meant and _why_. Maybe he truly was under the demon’s influence, but such actions felt excessive now. He knew Hanzo - his demeanour, his mind, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he found something particularly endearing.  
  
There were things that still confused McCree about Hanzo though, things he couldn’t quite explain. Some nights now he wouldn’t be able to find Hanzo at all, accompanied only by a strange bone deep regret that didn’t entirely feel like his own. Sometimes he’d see glimpses of - something? Somebody? It moved like Hanzo, but it wasn’t his Hanzo the Hanzo he knew. Like a shadow out of the corner of the eye he couldn’t quite focus on it; it left him unease in a was Hanzo never did these days. It felt… More raw, more volatile, more _pained_.

But as much as those strange encounters would throw McCree off? He couldn’t bring himself to walk away from this, from Hanzo. He had a job to finish, after all… Though to say that was the only reason these days would be a lie even just to entertain.  
  
(Nobody was forcing him to say _why_ though… Probably a good thing. He wasn’t sure he could come up with a good reason even if he wanted to.)

“I could never threaten somebody like you, McCree,” Hanzo replied, “Merely stating the facts for you in a way that you can’t ignore. You are quite responsive to statements of facts, are you not?” McCree just rolled his eyes, sipping at the tea he’d come to quite like the taste of.  
  
“Gotta be responsive to things that could be a danger to me,” he replied, tapping the side of his head “listening to those engrained hunter instincts, you know? Wait- sorry, darling. Gotta be responsive to _statements of facts.”_ That made Hanzo laugh, and while he quickly hid it behind his own drink it still left a warm feeling simmering in McCree’s stomach. A feeling he _pointedly_ didn’t look further into.  
  
“You are a delight, McCree-”  
  
“Damn right I am.”  
  
“-but a delight that is avoiding my question,” Hanzo replied, levelling McCree with a knowing stare. _Damnit._ Gift of the gab only worked when people didn’t see right through it, something that Hanzo was getting surprisingly good at. McCree sighed, overdramatic and all suffering. If the way that Hanzo’s shoulders were silently shaking was any indication the man didn’t believe a moment of his act. That wasn’t really the point though - though Hanzo taking pleasure in his antics was a delight in its own way.  
  
“Well, sleeping is one,” McCree says, pulling a knee up to his chest. “You’ve turned me into a hell of a night owl with us meeting up like this, you know. Wakin’ up to see the sun used to happen a hell of a lot more often - now I get complaints I’m still snoring come midday.”  
  
“Truly you are the worst neighbour imaginable.” Hanzo said. Listening to his voice alone, McCree might’ve been fooled into saying that Hanzo was being completely serious, no nonsense. Hell, sometimes he wondered just how often he’d fallen into that trap early on because _Christ_ \- Hanzo had a way of saying the darndest things with a completely straight face. Worst thing was? Hanzo probably enjoyed getting the joke in over his head - he always seemed most pleased with himself when it took McCree a few moments to click onto the joke. _Fucker._ _  
__  
_ “Honestly, they should throw me out right now - except they can’t, cause I ain’t missed rent since I moved in.”

“How do you pay for it?”

“Well, by your count I have eighteen hours of the day to do whatever the hell I like. You think a man like me can’t figure something out in that time?” McCree said, waggling his eyebrows in a self conceited way. “Honest though Han’, I find odd jobs here ‘n there - extra pair of hands for anybody willing to throw me a few yen, I do some errands for the little old lady that lives next door to me too. Still do a bit of hunting too, but don’t go too far out of town these days. Don’t always gotta - you know how vicious a tsukumogami can get when their owners were shitty? Can’t fault them for lookin’ for revenge after a hundred years of abuse and them finally getting the sentience to do something about it, but they can leave a hell of a mess to clean up if they’re particularly vindictive.”

Hanzo is quiet for a few moments after that, his smile fading to something… Not quite _sombre,_ but certainly introspective.  
  
“Do you miss it? Hunting properly, I mean,” Hanzo said, “considering I have the distinct feeling that your lack of contracts is tied to my… Well, everything.”  
  
“If you’re implying you’re _stopping_ me from leaving, you ain’t got the facts straight, you know,” McCree said, tone turning more serious as he sought out Hanzo’s gaze. God, he swore once upon a time he hadn’t been able to make out the pupil and iris from Hanzo’s sclera, but he certainly could now. “Remember Han, you’re still job number one here - makin’ sure that you don’t cause trouble with anything is my job. And well, if that means I have to suffer a bit under your company? Well, I’ve done much, much worse in the name of a hunt. Besides,” he added, resting his head on his knee “usually they aren’t _nearly_ as good at conversation as you are.”  
  
“Flatterer.” A rolling of eyes, but McCree could see the way Hanzo’s shoulders shifted at the compliment, the way he bit his lip just so. _Preening -_ of course he was. It made McCree want to do stupid, stupid things to the man in front of him. Hell, he wasn’t even a _man_ , he was the literal ghost of a man-  
  
“Of course, darlin’,” he said, ignoring his heart in favor of the man smiling bright, so bright in front of him.

Oh, he couldn’t stop the grin on his face even if he tried.

-x-  
  
“McCree, have you ever considered leaving here?”  
  
“What - why you thinkin’ something like that, sugar?” A pause. “Would ya miss me that much?”  
  
“...Something like that.”

-x-

He got in the mail sometimes. Most of the time it was junk mail, or mail he didn’t need to think about - bills, fliers, the sort of thing that made his eyes gloss over by the end of the first line. Other times it was a bit more interesting than that.

Tracer had written to him since he had settled here - it was surprising to hear from the cadet, especially since their paths had so rarely crossed. Even though they had worked at the same organisation, to say they were part of different worlds was to put the facts rather lightly. Still, there was a brightness to her words that shone through even in ink - about her work while Overwatch had been out of commision, about the monkey ( _he's a scientist!_ the letter had corrected, as if she knew what he was thinking), about her sweet girlfriend that McCree had heard about but never quite got the pleasure of meeting. His letters back were fond, left him nostalgic for drills and movie nights in standard issue uniform; when he wrote back that he wanted to meet again? He meant it.

The most rare letter of all to receive, however, was Ana’s. Her letters were seldom seen, never with a return address and from a different country each time. He had no idea how she knew that he was still here - though he wouldn’t put it past her to be watching apartment listings or have eyes where he didn’t know they lived. Her last one lay crumpled in his hand now, head thrown back against the wall behind him. It was vague to her whereabouts as always, concerned about his well being as usual, but it was the last words that replayed in his mind now.  
  
_Certainly you should be close to moving on now, no? You’re not the sort to stay put like this, McCree - and even the most captivating of spirits aren’t a reason to stay in one place._ _  
__  
_ He wasn’t the sort to stay put like this. God, he _wasn’t_ \- he’d always had a metaphorical stone in his boot, wanted to move with the winds and see the world in a way the everyman never did. But… But something was keeping him here- no. Somebody.  
  
God, was he really this head over heels for a spirit? Sure, there was a human of sorts under the etherealness, but one that hadn’t been _human_ for centuries. Surely McCree couldn’t feel so strongly for a man who wasn’t even truly a man anymore? That’d be preposterous, completely out of the question for somebody like him. He wasn’t tied down to any one place, one person; a free spirit in every sense of the word. And yet…  
  
Maybe he should leave. Maybe this wasn’t good for him.  
  
-x-  
  
He only needed to see Hanzo’s smile once to forget that idea entirely.

-x-

McCree didn’t think much of it when Hanzo first met him at the gate instead of at the campfire - god, their interactions had changed so much since that first fateful night. Sure, there’d been an intelligence there when they had first met - but there was a difference between that and now, Hanzo greeting him with bright eyes and a clap on the back.  
  
“Evenin’, darling,” he said, feeling lighter for saying it. “How goes you this fine night?”  
  
“I’m here, and so are you,” Hanzo replied “that already makes the night far, far better. Now, are we going to stand around and talk pleasantries, or are we going to go get comfortable? I’ve been looking forward to drinking the night away with you.”  
  
“Well, I think we should- Hey!” McCree replied with a laugh, watching as the other man darted away. “You got a head start, that ain’t fair!”  
  
“A shame you didn’t think to do it first, then,” Hanzo replied, shrugging from the top of the staircase and- hey, how had he gotten that far ahead already?! McCree had to bolt for a second to catch up with him at the top of the walkway among the rafters - and so the game began, McCree _almost_ catching up to the other man before he would dart just out of reach, bright eyes glinting in what little moonlight was filtering through the thick clouds… _Was_ it the moonlight making them shine like that? It was hard to tell - certainly, there was no light in the large room of the central Shimada estate. Still though Hanzo’s eyes shone, his laugh echoing off the walls as he darted ahead.

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to do so, but McCree found himself… Hesitating at the height of the stairs, as he looked out across the room, over to the offerings in front of the blood stained banner. Perhaps it was the lighting? But they looked different tonight, somehow - the incense was knocked over, the bowl cracked and the rich brown feather moving in an unseen breeze, one puff from blowing away. The usual collection was unsettled in a way that they never were… Strange.

“Are you getting distracted on me?” He looked up and suddenly Hanzo was there, standing at ease far closer than he was before and looking at McCree with the fondest of expressions. Shit, had he really gotten so caught up in his own head he hadn’t even heard Hanzo sneak up on him? God, it was probably a good thing he wasn’t doing a lot of hunts with those sort of reflexes, even if there was a particularly attractive reason for him to be distracted right now.  
  
“Easy there, gorgeous. You gonna kill a man for lookin’ around when you’re skipping so far ahead?” Now they had a break, McCree had a convenient excuse to observe the other man in detail; the soft tones of his skin, his neat hair greying at the temples. His tattoo spiraled down his arm, the intricate artwork beautiful in its attention to detail. His eyes trailed down and back up appreciatively - to look into Hanzo’s grey eyes that looked _far_ too amused for his own good.  
  
“See something you like, cowboy?”

 _What if I do?_ _  
__  
_ “Gettin’ awful cocky on me, darlin’,” he replies instead, neither confirming nor denying Hanzo’s accusations. He’s not sure he needs to though, considering the traitorous heat on his cheeks. If Hanzo notices though? He graciously doesn't say a word - he _does_ however laugh warm and genuine, the sort of laugh that pulled at McCree’s heartstrings and **fuck** he needed a drink.  
  
...Actually.  
  
“Say, Hanzo,” he says, planting his hands on his head and tilting his head to one side “I know it’s tradition and all that to make your tea and sit around drinking and what not - but what if we shook things up and I made you a drink to my tastes this time round?”  
  
“Oh?” Hanzo replied, the man not bothering to hide his intrigue. “And what would that be?”  
  
“Well, when was the last time you had a good whiskey? And not just some two penny bullshit - I mean the _good_ stuff.”

“I’ve never spent a penny in my life, McCree.”  
  
“Oh, you know what I mean, darling,” McCree replied, rolling his eyes and laughing. “Point is, if the answer is ‘a hell of a long time ago’ I happen to be carrying a nice one on me now.” He patted his hip, the sharp rap of the flask in his pocket dulled by fabric of his pants. “None too peaty with just the right amount of spice. Sunlight held together by water, my Ma always said. I’m willing to share if you’re feeling adventurous.”  
  
“You make it sound tempting indeed, cowboy” Hanzo teased, leading them down the stairs and into the regular courtyard where their regular fire crackled quietly away. “Perhaps I can share some of my sake with you as well.”  
  
Wait.  
  
“Are you sayin’ all this time you had alcohol on you - and we’ve been drinking tea?!”  
  
“You say that like you didn’t enjoy it - I never forced you to drink it, did I?” Hanzo said, an easy shrug as they settled down. “And sure, perhaps it was _tradition_ as you said the first few time - but if it really bothered you, I would have expected to hear about it far sooner than I have. Especially since I’ve made no attempts to hide my sake gourd myself.”  
  
“...You got me there, darling.”

Hanzo smiled, looking far too pleased with himself. McCree liked that expression on the other man’s face _far_ too much for his own damn good.

They sat down in their respective places, in front of the fire across from each other. As the night bled into the early hours of the morning their drinks of choice were poured and shared - Hanzo’s sake was sharp and bitter on McCree’s tongue, a dry wine that was surprisingly pleasant to the taste. Or perhaps his mouth was dry because of the smile on Hanzo’s lips, his stories and laughter - no, it was the drink. It was definitely the drink.

Watching Hanzo try the whiskey was equally entertaining for McCree though; he laughed as the man made a face that said all too well that whatever he’d been expecting? It hadn't been that. The alcohol flowed like water and so too did their banter; it never failed to surprise McCree that their humour meshed so well despite the fact Hanzo was literally from another time. Then again, one look at him and he knew people would think the same about him - not much need for cowboys in the streets of Hanamura after all.  
  
But it wasn’t until they were sipping at the last remains of their alcohol stashes, drinking from their bottles with little regard for etiquette, that their conversation lulled. McCree had managed to worm his way around the fire, leaning against the same rock that Hanzo had to his back. The contact was nice and lulled a part of him that was harder to quiet with alcohol pulsing through his veins - the part of him that sung at the brushes of Hanzo’s hand against his side, that took the gaps in conversation to let his eyes roam over the other man’s body; the cut of his jaw, the strength of his arms, the bow of his lips that McCree wanted to run his fingers over.  
  
“Did I ever tell you why I’m here?” Hanzo said. McCree could smell the alcohol on Hanzo’s breath - he didn’t even know spirits could get drunk.  
  
“I mean, you told me about your lil’ old demon friend that you made the deal wi-”  
  
“No, no, not that,” Hanzo interrupted, gesturing wildly. “I mean why I’m here. In the castle.”  
  
“Think I asked once and nearly got my head bit off.” Hanzo barked out laughter in reply.  
  
“That does sound typical of me, though also that was a long time ago now. A few things have changed since then” He said, his expression sobering just the slightest. “What do you know about me?”  
  
“..Not all that much. Not that it matters to me all that much anymore, but your past and all that jazz ain’t really a conversation topic we broach all that much.” McCree admitted. He paused, not sure how much more Hanzo wanted from him. At Hanzo’s silent insistence, he continued “I know that you were one of the heirs to the Shimada clan, and you had to…” _Kill your brother_ he thought as he let the sentence trail off, giving Hanzo a worried look. If any statement was going to make him snap it would be that one. But Hanzo didn’t even ask for elaboration on what McCree said, instead staring into the bottom of his sake gourd like it held the answers to the universe.  
  
“I was the heir to the Shimada clan,” Hanzo started, quietly. “The Shimada clan were a proud family, and I was raised from birth to take over the position of my father as leader of the clan. Archery, etiquette, hand to hand combat - I was trained from dawn to dusk. It was the only life I ever knew. The only person I had outside of it was my brother… Genji.” He said the words in a hushed tone, as if he was afraid that not saying the word with care would cause it to shatter.

“My father’s sparrow - he was not shackled with the same responsibilities that I had. Other ones, sure. But not ones I could appreciate at the time, nor did they truly compare to the weight of what I had to bare. While I trained with weapons and learned more languages than I would ever truly need, he drunk and slept with all manner of people. He had freedoms that I could only begin to dream of, friendships with people that were his age, had stories that weren’t just of rigorous trainings and succeeding at something only to fail at yet another impossible task my father set for me. I cannot count how many times I lay in bed jealous of what he had.”  
  
“Why didn’t you sneak off then?” McCree asked, “Silent, creeping thing like you; doesn’t seem like it’d be outside your wheelhouse to just jump out for a night or two.”

“I tried, believe it or not,” Hanzo replied. “Genji told me I should go out for a night and experience the world. Have a few drinks, party the night away, whatever sorts of things that he did when I was trapped here,” he smiled fondly at the memory, before his expression fell “The elders found out before I even left the castle. They punished me heavily; I did not dare try again. Truly, in time, I believe I forgot I had any other choice. It is the only way I can justify my actions.”

Usually McCree had a silver tongue, could make a conversation out of thin air if he wanted to - but tonight he was quiet as he watched Hanzo struggle with inner demons that he could not begin to comprehend. He let a hand tentatively fall to Hanzo’s knee, rubbing a soothing circle into the cloth; Hanzo didn’t pull away. If anything he fell into McCree’s presence _more_ , seeking out the warmth of his being as he struggled to string words together.  
  
“The clan elders believed that Genji was a nuisance. He waved the Shimada name around as a badge of honour rather than the fearful legacy that it was, and wasted his money on booze, women and frivolities. They said he was… Good for nothing. Expendable. They asked me to kill him. I… I didn’t know what to do. Genji was the only friend I had, but the elders were not kind in their punishments when I failed them.” Hanzo had to stop there for a moment, making a strangled sound in his throat as he got his breathing back under control. It only took McCree a few moments more to see how much Hanzo’s eyes had glazed over. When he spoke again it was with a carefulness of a man seeing things that couldn’t be unsee, the distant phrasing of a man who needed to be detached just to deal with the memories of his actions.  
  
“I will never forget the expression he had on his face as my katana ran through his abdomen. He was facing away from me but I could see the look in his eyes, hear his cry. He crumpled to the ground like a doll... I saw the look of betrayal on his face as he died. I won’t forget that. I _can’t_ forget that.”  
  
“Oh, _darling._ ”  
  
“I lost the only person who cared about my soul and not my rank. I… I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go on knowing that I had done that. I set my blade upon the altar, I left my offerings to Genji there. It felt right to leave those things to him and… And it only took one cut. I still feel the bite of the metal into my own skin, the way my strength faded so quickly,. I could taste the iron of my own blood on my tongue - I didn’t think that would be a memory that I would hold, and yet here I am.” He seemed to stare downwards once more, lost in thought  
  
-And suddenly McCree wasn’t staring at at the man he knew so well, with grey at the temples and crow’s feet just starting to show. Suddenly he was staring at a barely twenty year old with regret in his eyes and blood seeping through his fingers, pressing against a gash in his stomach that was deep and deliberate and _unsurvivable_. The shadow McCree had seen in the courtyard, the source of that regret and pain and _hurt._ Suddenly he understood why Hanzo’s gaze so often drifted down and McCree couldn’t help the way he grabbed at Hanzo’s shoulders, searching the other man’s eyes who couldn’t, refused to look at him. This was his best friend, a man that he’d never been closer to, his… His….  
  
“Darling, I’m so sorry.”  
  
“You did nothing wrong,” Hanzo said, looking up at him with silvery eyes - and there were no whites, no almost features in the unsetting white; they were human and they were in pain, tears streaking down his face. His voice was choked with emotion as he shook his head. “This is the pain I’ve always bared, McCree. I have dealt with this for so long I have lost count of the years. And now I am going to lose everything again.”  
  
“Wait, _what?_ ”  
  
“The demon’s grip is loosening on me, McCree,” he said, fingers twitching as if he wanted to hold on to something but couldn’t quite bring himself to reach out, the man’s features sliding back to something older, more familiar. “Have you not noticed the changes?”

  
  
“The fear and anger that bound me to this place is unravelling, and so too is the demon’s connection to me, both physically and spiritually. I killed Genji and thought myself undeserving of any happiness. But _you_ came along, with your smile and laugh and _fuck.”_ Hanzo shook his head, laughing, but it wasn’t a laugh of happiness alone. It was tinted with sadness, with the shake in his breath and the shine in his eyes. “How can I be angry about my brother when I know that somebody can care for me even now? And as it leaves me, I feel the demon doing so too. It can no longer feed on my anger, can no longer stir in my soul - and a human spirit cannot persist on it’s own.”  
  
“But you can’t go!” McCree insisted, with an urgency in his voice that shocked even him. “Darling- Hanzo that isn’t how this sort of thing works.”  
  
“Isn’t it? Didn’t you say once that this was what you wanted? To bring souls like me peace?”  
  
“Fuck what I said before. I want you here. I want you to stay and I don’t want you to go.”  
  
“I don’t want to,” Hanzo said. “But I don’t have any other choice.”  
  
“Of course you do sweet pea- Oh, to hell with it.”  
  
And before Hanzo could say a word McCree pulled him in and kissed him.  
  
He didn’t even think about it, acting on impulse like he had so many times over the course of the past few months, dragging in Hanzo and pressing his lips against the other pair gone slack. He could taste salt and skin and something bitter, cradled Hanzo’s face in his hands as he felt the other man gasp beneath him, body going stiff. For a moment he braced himself, for a punch, a push, anything; he had surprised a fucking _assassin,_ was this really going to go well for him? But then he felt Hanzo surge forward, lips meeting his with a renewed vigor as fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt. Hanzo was a spirit, but in this moment he felt strong and alive under McCree’s touch, breath hot, skin warm and buzzing with an energy that made goosebumps rise on his skin. When McCree pulled back to search Hanzo’s face the man look as dazed as he felt. Hanzo smiled, and McCree felt his stomach flutter.  
  
“You’re coming with me, honey bee. Ain’t no way I’m leaving you to disappear.”  
  
Hanzo chuckled at that, a deep rich sound as he scratched the side of his neck in a way that was endearingly boyish. The sound was infectious, catching in McCree’s throat and soon they were both laughing, holding onto each other and in that moment everything just felt _right_. They were not the outlaw and the assassin, or the hunter and the ghost - they were Jesse and Hanzo, two spirits intertwined. Hanzo spoke again after a long moment, worry still sparking in his eyes.  
  
“How are we going to do that, though?” Hanzo asked. “I am still bound to this place. Much as I want to - ”  
  
“No, not this place,” McCree said with a grin. “I know exactly what’s keeping you here, and it ain’t old wood.”  
  
“I don’t believe you.”  
  
“Well, you should,” McCree said, getting to his feet before offering a hand to Hanzo - one the other man took without question. He squeezed the other man’s hand before letting go, gesturing for Hanzo to follow him. “Completely understandable that you’d think that though, of course, since this place is your home and all. But it wasn’t really a _home_ home, right? And spirits are tied to something that means something to them - that doesn’t have to be a place. I’ve seen mirrors, I’ve seen lockets - one time I saw a ghost bound to an old oak cabinet. Real trouble maker, that one.”  
  
“So you’re saying I’m not bound to the castle itself, but something within it?”  
  
“Right, and I know exactly what,” McCree said, making his way out into the main room of the castle and down the stair to the main floor and the altar. “You live here, but you don’t care for here - you’re just looking after this place because you always did. But Genji? You cared for him more than anything else - it’s the reason you’re still here. And what do sparrows have?”  
  
“Feathers,” Hanzo said, realisation dawning on his face. McCree just smiled at him, before getting down on one knee and plucking the feather from the ground. Once black, now brown with white edges, McCree held it between finger and thumb. It made sense. It felt right - and though it was small, McCree could feel the thrum of Hanzo’s spirit in the feather, as strong as the man’s presence in front of him. He didn’t have to go. He could stay.  
  
Fuck, McCree loved him.  
  
“I take this little ol’ thing with me and you’ll be travelling just as easy as I do. And hopefully with me acting as the battery you shouldn’t fall into any sort of weird in and out of consciousness patterns. Just me and you, on the road. Sounds like a dream, don’t it, sweetheart?”  
  
“More than anything in the world,” Hanzo said, returning McCree’s smile. “You think that’s going to work?”  
  
“Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

-x-  
  
McCree had thought once that the taste of dust and whiskey was unpleasant, that he’d never want to taste it again; now, riding on the top of a train that had seen almost as much open space as he had, he had to admit to himself that he’d missed it far more than he’d admitted.  
  
Places where he wasn’t recognised were few and far between these days, especially as the bounty hanging over his head kept on getting bumped higher and higher. It was why he was here right now, riding on top of the train with the tracks click-clacking beneath him. After all, trains like this didn’t sell men like him a ticket. Sometimes McCree would get bitter about the fact, wonder why they couldn’t put that money towards catching actual criminals instead of a former Overwatch agent just trying to still do good in this world - weren’t those Junkers from Australia causing far more damage and together worth only half his bounty? But those were the days when emotion was more bitter than the nicotine in his throat, and today he was happily, blissfully calm. He kicked his feet up on top of the carriage in front of him, leaning back and watching the smoke from his cigar be pulled back behind him with every exhale.  
  
“You’re looking rather comfortable, Jesse.”  
  
“And you’re just playing downright unfair,” McCree drawled in reply, tipping his head ever so slightly to meet Hanzo’s eyes. Despite the fact that the train was speeding along at some six hundred something miles an hour, Hanzo seemed to find it perfectly acceptable to kneel right on top of the carriage, nothing to his back or anything. Nothing like being an incorporeal spirit to defy the effects of gravity, it seemed. “That haircut suits you, sweetheart.”  
  
“It doesn’t, doesn’t it?” Hanzo replied, fingers dancing along the shaved portion of his head. McCree had never taken Hanzo for an incredibly vain person, considering his overly formal sense of dress he’d mostly put down to the circumstances in which they’d met - but it was times like these when Hanzo knew _exactly_ what he was doing to McCree that made him want to seriously rethink that statement. “It’s nice to feel more relevant to this day and age.”  
  
“First you got the haircut, then you got the piercings-”  
  
“You like the piercings though. All of them,” Hanzo countered with a sly smile.  
  
“This isn’t about that,” McCree replied, huffing overdramatically as Hanzo laughed. “It’s good to see you getting comfortable though. I was right worried you wouldn’t take to this life, even if the whole thing at Hanamura put a new feather in my cap. Literally,” McCree added with a grin, laughing as Hanzo scoffed.  
  
“I’d wish that the feather flies out from you Stetson,” Hanzo said, gesturing to where his feather was tucked into the band of McCree’s hat next to the metal symbol, “but I just want to prove a point, not eternally be lost on the wind. In any case though, it was worry ill-placed.” He smiled softly. “It’s been a wonderful year travelling with you. You certainly have kept things interesting-”  
  
Before Hanzo could finish his sentence though McCree’s pocket started… Vibrating? The two of them shared a look - McCree didn’t own a phone. There was only one thing McCree owned that could vibrate. Fumbling in his pockets over his wallet, McCree pulled out the communicator - and sure enough, the holoscreen was lit up, a picture of Winston frozen on the front of the screen with **RECALL** flashing on the screen in bright orange. Clicking through he could see the old Gibraltar base - he could never forget the look of that place on a map - lit up like it was Christmas. He looked to Hanzo with a look of shock on his face - one that quickly split into a self assured delight.  
  
“Well, shit,” McCree said. “Looks like it’s a change of plans then, darling.”  
  
“Are you ready?” Hanzo asked. No questioning, just confirmation - if nothing else, that proved that he knew McCree’s heart’s desire, that he’d made the right choice all those months ago to sit down in front of the ashen skinned demon and accept his invitation for tea. What better partner could he ask for?  
  
“Never been more sure, darling. Let’s do this.” 


End file.
